


Baby, it's cold outside

by a_sallieri



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Brain gremlins, El is the softest boy, M/M, Q blushes, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_sallieri/pseuds/a_sallieri
Summary: When the weather at Brakebills is unbearably good, Eliot and Margo take Quentin out to spend a day outside in the New England winter.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Baby, it's cold outside

Winters in upstate New York were the worst. Staying at Brakebills was suffocating.  
Classes, library, horrible roommate, soul-wrecking finger cramps from all the spell casting.   
Quentin felt more and more tired. The magic was heavy, pinning him doing. He couldn’t really control it, he could never be as good as Alice or even Penny.  
Every day he was waking up to a new sunny day, going through the same motions and words, again and again. Nothing really mattered anymore. He felt like a failure and wanted to feel something else for at least a second, to wake up somewhere else. He never thought he’d miss New York, and yet, his thoughts were going back to little hall-in-the-wall places, where he’d meet up with Jules and they would work and laugh.   
The life back then felt unbearable, but it was _easier_?   
He was sitting in the library, trying to figure out Arabic homework. The symbols refused to make sense and become words. Fuck! Fuck!   
He closed the book. Whatever. He can’t do this. Magic is too hard. They made a mistake. He’s not a magician. He just has to say that to Fogg. And then. Well, he’d go back. To the mundane world. To Columbia or Yale, mhm. Gosh, just thinking about this made him nauseous. He realizes that he unconsciously hid his hands into the hoodie, awkwardly fixes it and tries to breathe evenly.   
“Mmm… Quentin?”, and Quentin immediately opens his eyes.   
“Oh, mm…hi, Eliot.” Eliot keeps looking at him questioningly. “Arabic?”   
Quentin sighs and nods, rubbing his temples.   
“Unless you are planning on doing a study abroad, don’t waste your time. Anyway, Margo and I are going out”, he stands up and leans to the bookcase. “Well? Do you need to return books or something? We don’t have all day”  
Quentin drops the dictionary, picks it up, shoves it into his bag and follows Eliot.  
“Don’t forget to pick up a coat”, catching Quentin’s lost look, Eliot grins, “baby, it’s cold outside”  
Five minutes later, Eliot and Margo are casting, and pull him into a wardrobe. For a second, he can smell the varnish and old wood and then the fresh air pounces him in the face, and the sun, cold and bright blinds him.   
He feels the soft snow under his boots and gasps, it’s really cold.  
They are…somewhere. It’s wintery and pretty, with mountains in the distance and a coniferous forest around them. Margo, in her red coat, twirls, and screams, happy and fierce. She dances and then falls into the snow, sprawled out. Margo laughs and makes a snow angel.  
Quentin has never heard her laugh so openly and cheerfully, not giggling about some new goss or laughing at some loser, but like an actual human. He sees Eliot smiling at her, gently, _lovingly_.   
The realization that these two are like a family hits the air out of his lungs. Quentin wishes that he never went with them. Studying Arabic alone is better than feeling lonely. The cold sneaks under his coat and he shivers. Instantly he feels warm as if someone just wrapped him in a soft blanket, he turns and catches the sight of Eliot finishing a spell. Eliot smiles at him and pulls him down to join him and Margo into a snow pile.   
Falling down Quentin braces himself for hitting the ground but it never happens, the snow is soft and inviting. They lay down there, making snow angels and looking at the sky so deep blue. Margo turns to them.  
“When I was little, my dad used to take me out to hike in the winter. The city always feels stuffy. With the winter coming, everyone puts on coats to protect themselves from the cold, and all the coats are the same, black or grey. People stop smiling, they push each other in the subway, they are just so angry. But outside it would be quiet and serene, so beautiful.”   
“Oh, Bambi.” Eliot stands up and helps them get out of the snow.   
They hike, tossing each other the flask, snow in boots, hitched breath and Eliot casting warming spells every five minutes.   
“When I was drunk, hiking in the snow seemed like a good idea”, Eliot sounds almost apologetically.  
“I don’t remember you being that drunk. And for fuck sake, why did you make the portal two miles away from the spot?”  
“Mmm… Did it seem like fun at that moment? Nature and all? To be honest, I have no clue. We’re almost there, though. Bambi, relax.”  
Margo stares at Eliot, and he knows better than to keep talking. She goes forward, leaving Q and El hiking side to side. Eliot winks at Q, and he blushes. Adorable.  
In half an hour and fifteen Margo’s angry glances, they are there. It’s a small plateau, with a little gazebo and a place for a bonfire. Eliot starts conjuring one and soon the fire cheerfully crackles. Margo sits closer to it, gloves off, enjoying the warm air. Quentin watches Eliot tinkering with fire and then watches the valley. The view is powerful and simple, the deep green of the forest, sparkling snow, grey mountains, and breathtaking in its austerity. He wants to see it better, so he steps closer to the cliff, and feels his foot slipping on ice too late to catch balance. His breath hitches, and then something yanks him back.   
“Fuck, Coldwater. If you die on us that will kill our rep”, Margo’s words would sound harsh if they weren’t said in a shaky voice.   
Eliot is silent and just pulls Q closer, squeezing his shoulder. Quentin suddenly feels warm and stupid and high on emotions. People are worried about him. They care.   
He realizes that he must have said that out loud when he hears: “Of course we care.”  
Eliot’s hand on the small of Quentin’s back gently but firmly pushes him closer to the fire. They grill hotdogs and marshmallows, drink mulled wine, and tell each other stories about before. Before Brakebills, before magic, from the past life. All of them carefully avoid any hard moments and the darkness crawls upon them unannounced. Quentin lays his head on Eliot’s shoulder, tired and a little bit drunk. Eliot sees some marshmallows in the corner of his mouth and brushes it away with his thumb.   
“You know, you don’t have to make me feel better.”- Quentin suddenly feels guilty and undeserving of his affection, and also sad that this kindness has little to do with him and more with Eliot being a good person. He kinda wishes that they’d be a bit closer and that he, Quentin Coldwater, could lay his head on Eliot’s shoulder because Eliot would be his. He doesn’t get to finish this thought.   
“You know, Q? I’m doing this to make you feel better. Because I want you to feel better. Weirdly, seeing a certain high-strung supernerd smile brings me joy. So let me do things that bring me joy.” - Eliot’s voice is so soft and he runs his fingers through Quentin’s hair. - “Okay?”  
Margo looks at them with a poorly hidden grin.   
“ Why don’t you two just kiss and we all can go home?”   
Eliot gives her a stern look. Quentin blushes and shuts his eyes. He feels like it all just became an inside joke that he doesn’t get.   
“Hey.” - Eliot gently cups his face and turns so he can see Quentin’s expression. - “Sorry for Margo. She just can’t help herself”- he breathes in - “I would love to kiss you, Q. I just want to make sure that it feels right, you know? That it’s not like you got pressured into it, not something you will regret. I don’t want to be a thing you regret, Q, okay?”  
“Okay.” Quentin almost whispers. “Can you maybe kiss me though? I’d… I’d like that”.


End file.
